


Seafoam

by NeverSatisfiedGirl (Kalli_Ravenne)



Series: Blood, Ink, and Saltwater [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Illnesses, Multiple Endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-07-27 03:24:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20039122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalli_Ravenne/pseuds/NeverSatisfiedGirl
Summary: Imagine for a moment, if you will, that you’re a tattoo artist with an unusual gift: your art acts as living magic charms infused with your heart’s intent. You’re in love with your best friend, but he’s in love with someone else. Now imagine that your best friend has asked you for a favor: they want you to do a special tattoo for the both of them. And they have no idea about your gift, or the inner conflict churning inside you…even as you break your rules for their happiness…





	1. Tidal

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello hello! So this is the first part of my submission for the Love/Sex/Magic Challenge. This was inspired by both the response from several fans regarding Finn’s tattoos and the original story of The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Anderson. I’m gonna tell you right now: this is different from anything I’ve written, so naturally I’m nervous. Especially since this particular tale has three endings. Because I couldn’t choose just one. A special thanks goes to @writinglionqueen and @madamaholmes for being all kinds of awesome in sorting out my ideas. Another note: It should also be noted that, though I have researched on tattoos and the industry of body modification, I’m still but a novice. Anything I can correct, please let me know. Thanks so much ❤️  
Anywho…if you like what you read, feedback would be awesome, but likes and reblogs make me smile too. ❤️
> 
> Hope you enjoy this one. ;)

It started when I was sixteen. The first time something I drew came to life. The ocean waves rolled along the crimson shore at sunset, peaceful and powerful, and the foam bubbled and dissipated. I could almost smell the salt and the sweetness of the breeze right off the page. A place I’d never been before, except in my dreams.

Against my dad’s wishes for me to go to some pretentious art school close to our home in the Midwest after graduation and “study the masters”, I took an apprenticeship with one of the best tattoo artists on the West Coast. One who saw potential in my gift, never exploiting or abusing it.

Esmeralda (or Esmee, as she preferred), that was her name. I stayed under her wing for several years (ten in total, to be precise), the last few of which were working at her tattoo parlor, Blue Nirvana.

Through her tutelage my art found a new canvas, and the life that flowed through it fused so easily with these new designs. The blood that was drawn in the process enhanced their effect, making it a permanent bond not just of the body, but of the spirit. My heart went into every line and every color, for good or for ill, depending on the tattoo.

Let me explain.

A lot of my work focuses on the positive and the meaningful, the introspective and the provocative. It’s what makes up the majority of my clientele, and it makes for great days. Many of them say that they felt more alive, hopeful, even confident. My tattoos are living charms to empower and embolden those who needed it. My own kind of magic.

I tend to avoid anything with negative connotations. The triple-sixes, death knots, upside-down crosses or horseshoes (because it empties out the luck and defeats the purpose), and basically any tattoo with offensive representations (like swastikas, for instance).

Someone else could do that…if they didn’t wanna risk me hexing the client. Fuck, the client was hexing themselves by tempting fate like that. No skin off my nose.

I’d been making great money and, when I felt I was ready, started saving up in the hopes of having my own setup one day. I had gotten very close and told my mentor of my plans to fly the coop and make my own nest. Esmee seemed to take the news well at first.

Funny enough, _that’s_ when she started exploiting me.

The more business I did, the higher my rent became for my space. She advertised me as a kind of witch, claiming my tattoos had the power to attract wealth, love, fame, and other variations of bullshit. Then she charged insanely high costs while double-booking me with a higher workload. She kept over half of what I made and I barely had time to recover.

Initially, I was naive and thought it was part of paying my dues. It wasn’t until I landed in the ER for exhaustion that I made a friend who showed me otherwise.

Finn Bálor ran a local wrestling school, and was visiting the children’s wing of the hospital with a few of his trainers and students. Apparently he made a few wrong turns trying to find the bathroom. I’d been walking in my gown and slippers with an IV and my head in a cloud of depression when he asked me for directions. Despite the mood I was in, I felt compelled to help.

I wanted to point out that it was impossible to not find a bathroom around here, but what did I know? Besides, he had such a sweet face. Saying no to that face would have felt like kicking a puppy, and I told him as much.

And we talked. I hadn’t really talked to many people outside of Esmee and my customers. No real friends since I’d arrived. I would have ignored him and his winning smile altogether if not for him being so…genuine.

We exchanged numbers and kept in touch after I left the hospital. He gave me a proper tour around the city, let me hang out at his school in the little downtime that I managed, and I showed him some of my work.

“It’s like you put your own heart into each piece,” he had remarked as he flipped through my portfolio of practice skin and sample designs, sky-blue eyes full of wonder. “Each one feels so personal, so honest. It’s almost like they have a life of their own. This is why people will come to see you, why you’re gonna do amazing on your own. You’re like a mermaid, and these are your songs.”

I laughed, cheeks feeling a little flushed from his praise. “I think you mean a siren.”

“Yeah, but you don’t lead people to their deaths.” Finn raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Shhhhh! It’s true, but you shouldn’t say it!” I managed before we snickered and completely blew the touching moment. But I took his supportive words to heart, and it only steeled my resolve to succeed.

If not for Finn, I would never have left Esmee behind. Nor would I have found the courage to open my own shop.

He was there through the difficulties, and was my biggest cheerleader. He didn’t know about my gift, which was probably for the best. I couldn’t risk that again.

Besides…Esmee had been kind like him, too.

When I got off to a shaky start, he helped me find my sea legs. I started with a pop-up shop, offering tattoos at local events, and took on tattoo parties to make income. Though he didn’t have a single spot of ink on his skin, Finn helped to research possible techniques, and encouraged me every step of the way. He even went to the tattoo expos with me.

In return, I took classes and learned how to wrestle. I never knew getting thrown across the ring or spearing someone to the canvas could be so_ liberating_. I traveled with them to competitions and became a kind of road mom to the students.

Somewhere along the way, I found the fortitude to compete in a women’s match…and yeah, I lost. But _damn_, it was fun.

Finn even gave me a ring name I would go on to use as my professional alias: _Oya_.

“She is a warrior-spirit among the Orisha,” he had told me at the time, “and she rules lightning, fire, and magic.”

I was touched, but I had brushed it off as a joke. “I’m not that much of a legend.”

Then I smirked and added, “_Yet_.”

I also named my first official brick-and-mortar shop Warrior-Spirit Tattoo and Piercing Studio, which opened four years ago, on my 32nd birthday. I now had three talented people under my charge. I kept my rent low and reasonable so they retain the majority of what they earned, including tips, and treated them with bonuses and incentives to show my appreciation.

Business was consistent. Life was amazing. And for the first time in my life, I had someone I could truly call my best friend.

We were thick as thieves, Finn and I. But I made the mistake one tends to make with best friends.

I fell in love with him. I never let him know, keeping it inside for the better part of these last eighteen months… and counting.

But from the moment I realized it, I knew our friendship was on borrowed time.

****

So I have certain rules when it comes to my work:

_**I don’t do relationship tattoos. **_Nope. No way.

Like other tattoo artists I know, I refuse to do them because the majority of people I did those tattoos for in the past are no longer together. So when they come back, I recommend either a cover-up, or the nearest laser removal clinic.

I honestly tried to do my part to break that stigma, by infusing as much hope and bonding into my work as possible. Whether it’s merely a name, or symbol, or something else of importance to the couple, you always hope they can overcome the obstacles in their path.

But the thing about infusing your intent? No matter how good it is, you can’t overcome the element of free will. Feelings change, people become distant, some are unfaithful. Life is unpredictable, and the last thing I want is to give them something they will forever regret should it all fall apart in a bad way.

On that note_,** I also refuse to do tattoos when someone’s drunk**_**.** Aside from the obvious risks that come with tattooing the inebriated, I couldn’t see giving someone a permanent symbol of their stupidity.

Exception: if they’re an absolute douchecanoe. Which has happened. A handful of times.

But the biggest one, and most important, is that_** I never work on close friends or family**. _It’s easier to put my emotions into my art when it’s on unfamiliar skin. But when it’s someone I know, those emotions intensify and it makes it harder to be detached. It drains me as much, if not more than, being overworked. I learned that the hard way…but I won’t go into that now.

I mention this because I broke two of those rules. For Finn.

But I didn’t know what it would cost me.

This is where everything changed. This is the story of how I died.


	2. Wave Crest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a favor is asked and rules are broken.

Ava Carlisle was a decorated investigative journalist for a major network, and she was damn good at her job. One of the few people who valued integrity in her stories, no fluff or filler. She was also a polyglot (four languages and counting), a space enthusiast (like Finn), and an utter nerd with a great sense of humor. She fit in pretty well, it seemed.

Also she was drop dead gorgeous. That wasn’t quite as important, but it’s notable nonetheless.

Because by this time they had been an item for a little over a year. It started out long-distance - letters, calls, the whole nine yards - and turned into a whirlwind romance.

Had to admit, it was one of the few times I’d seen him so elated outside of his family and friends. She seemed to be good for him, and I supported them 100%, like any true friend would.

This also meant that I didn’t see him as much, which is normal when one is spending time with their significant other. Especially when traveling back and forth to see one another. 

I understood that though.

That doesn’t mean I particularly  _ liked _ it, but I understood. 

Just the same, when we did hang out, there was never a dull moment. Ava had even come along when she wasn’t busy, and it was pretty enjoyable... when I brought someone with me. 

Full disclosure: I didn’t particularly like being the third wheel for, well, anybody. So Seth Rollins was a fantastic buffer. 

Seth, as it happened, was a part-time trainer at the wrestling school. He not only did tattoos, but specialized in piercings as well, so he also worked at my shop. With his solid build, you’d be right in assuming he was into CrossFit. He just wasn’t a douche about it, and he incorporated that surprisingly well into his classes. We’d only known each other for a year, but I regarded him as a good friend. 

Eventually Finn caught on to my dislike of being the third wheel and, though he was totally fine with Seth being there, promised to make time for us to hang out as we used to. 

Mind you, I never asked for this. I even told him I was fine with the changes once I adjusted to them. But  _ you _ try telling a grown-ass man with his signature Irish stubbornness what to do, and see how far it gets you. 

Anyway, I appreciated the dedication. Even as a sense of foreboding swelled within me, I kept hoping for the best and stuffed my own feelings away in a separate compartment where it wouldn’t be a distraction.

(I freely confess it wasn’t a wise idea, knowing my disposition. If I knew how bad it would get, I would have done something differently. (Hindsight and all, being what it is.)

And then it happened.

One night Finn stayed at the shop until closing to grab a late dinner and make sure I got home safe, as was our custom three times a week.

“So...Ava and I were thinking about getting tattoos,” he began cautiously. 

I paused in the middle of sanitizing my equipment, raising an eyebrow at him. “Why do I get the feeling you’re gonna ask me something I’m probably gonna say no to?”

Finn sighed. “I know, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Damn it. I hate that look on his face. The one where he’s trying not to look disappointed but he clearly is. What I mean to say is, quite frankly, his poker face sucks.

I finished sanitizing and sat in front of him. “Look, you know I love ya, right? And that’s saying something ‘cause I barely like  _ anyone _ . But you know how I feel about relationship tattoos. For most artists, it’s considered the kiss of death, and I’m not trying to cast bad luck on you two.”

It wasn’t the entire truth, not in his case. But I was actively ignoring that.

“Yeah, but didn’t you say that it can be subjective?”

“I said that. I also said that life happens and no one can predict the future.” This was true. “Also, I recall saying that I didn’t work on those close to me.”

His arms raised in a shrug. “And you never told me why. Then again, you haven’t told me much about your life, for that matter. Is there an embarrassing story behind that? Did they ask for a duck tattoo on their ass? Did the needle get stuck in an awkward part of the body?” 

I saw the mock horror in his expression, and I couldn’t keep a straight face. Laughing and shaking my head, I answered, “God, you’re such a little shit.”

“I’m  _ your _ little shit though,” he returned, and I couldn’t argue that. “Look...you’re one of the few people that I trust to do this. I’d even pay double-”

“You know your money’s no good here.” I could actually feel my resolve slipping, and I hated it. 

“Bullshit. I’ll gladly be a paying customer like everyone else. You’re worth it, and so is this. If for no other reason, would you do it just because you’re my best friend?”

I felt so unsure. And I’m certain he sensed it because…

“Oh, come on!  _ Now _ you’re just cheating,” I accused as his eyes softened into a sad puppy-like gaze. I adored/despised that gaze  _ so _ much. He even had the gall to pout. 

In my head, I’d already been going over the justifications I’d never say aloud, along with ways to shield myself. I had to be out of my mind. I must have been. 

Still I knew...there was literally no one else I’d do this for.

The first time, I wasn’t given a choice. Maybe this time will be different. I can put my personal feelings aside. It should be fine.

Right? Right. Okay.

With a resigned sigh, I gave in. “Alright, fine. For you. But you owe me soooo many macarons.”

He laughed, eyes lit up with joy. “For this, I’ll buy you everything in the whole damn shop if you want! You’re amazing!”

Somehow, his happy embrace almost made me forget about my fears.

* * *

Despite how uneasy I felt, it started easily enough. 

Three days later I met with Finn and Ava, who was visibly as excited as he was. She was a fan of my work as well, as a couple of her friends had gotten their ink done with me. 

I laid out the timing, what to expect, and discussed designs. The one they agreed on was one of my personal favorites. An infinity tattoo with a heart shaped by what resembled two fingerprints. One for his right shoulder, one for her left. 

I started with Ava. We got along, but it was easier to keep myself detached since...we’ve only known each other for a short time. So not quite a stranger, but as close to an acquaintance as could be. 

Perfect. I can handle this. _ I can do this. _

Just focus on the process. 

My mind began to work from there. It was as familiar as breathing - sterilization, needle prep, topical anesthetic, ditto (outline), transfer, work. Finn knew I liked to focus, so I knew he would respect my space. 

I turned on my music, and got to it. The high-pitched buzz of the motor was no more than background noise melding with the melodies. 

Needle met skin, but she barely flinched. Just a gasp as she squeezed Finn’s hand. The anesthetic was working. 

I wasn’t jealous. I’m not a jealous person. It’s a waste of energy. 

But... I envied her. Oh, how I envied her. 

And she made him consistently happy. Exactly what he deserved. 

The outline was the foundation, where my intent took root. My hand remained steady, the lines clear and unbroken, as I silently spoke hope, sustenance, bonding, and happiness. 

Before I knew it, the outline was complete. Little to no thinning. I prided myself on getting the outline right the first time. 

With a relieved smile, I let Ava know we were nearly there. “Just the shading from here and you’re done. How’re you feeling so far?”

She blew out a relieved breath and laughed softly. “I’m glad I can’t feel the pain, but it seems like it’s going well.”

“It is,” I assured her.

Finn nodded, impressed. “It looks amazing. I told you she was awesome.”

I couldn’t help but feel a little naked under his praise. I shrugged it off. “Well, let’s take a break. About five minutes to stretch, get something to drink, go pee, whatever you need.”

I quickly stepped outside and took a few calming breaths. So far, so good. 

Feeling clear enough, I went to the bathroom and washed my hands. Then returned to my station and proceeded to switch needles for shading. 

“Oh, I got called in to work to cover a new story,” Ava piped up behind me. “No rush though; they’re expecting me in over an hour.”

“No problem! It’s just shading, which shouldn’t take longer than fifteen to twenty minutes, tops. Once I treat the site and give you the care kit, you’re good to go.”

“Awesome!” 

I swear her smile could light up a room. Helps a lot in her work as a journalist, I imagined.

Finn gave me another appreciative smile, as if he hadn’t thanked me enough before. Once she stretched out on my table, we resumed as before.

The shading was simple black within the band, and it completed the piece, as I hoped she would complete him. 

My nerves began to vibrate near the end, but I kept it together. I saw it through to the end without wavering. And a mixture of pride and relief swelled in my chest.

A wash of witch hazel, and the piece was complete. A humble but bold symbol of affection. To my relief, she loved it. 

I applied a special second-skin bandage to allow the piece to breathe as it healed, and handed her an aftercare kit that I put together as a courtesy for all my customers. It included A&D ointment, two bandages, and a unique cream for tattoo care.

“I’ve got instructions in here as well. And should you have any other questions, you can always call.”

On that, she wrapped her arms around me. “You’re awesome,” she told me, voice laden with gratitude. “Thank you for this.”

A twinge punctuated in my chest at that. A dent in my armor.  _ Fuck _ . I’d been trying to avoid this.

I hugged her back. “My pleasure.”

“We should hang out soon. Get lunch, have a girls’ day?” 

God, she was really too sweet for words. I couldn’t even bring myself to hate her. I gave Ava a soft smile and nodded. “I’d like that.”

I returned to my prep while the lovers exchanged kisses and sweet words. The sweetness fermented into a sharp tang in my mouth, trickling into the vulnerable spot Ava opened. 

_ No. No, don’t get distracted now. You were doing so well. Breathe. Breathe. Close it off. Focus.  _

_ It’s okay. It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re happy for them. That hasn’t changed. That hasn’t changed at all. You got this. It’s just a tattoo- _

“ _ Mo chara daor, _ ” I heard from next to me. “Hey, you okay?”

I huffed out a laugh, sliding my mask back on. “Yeah, I’m good. Making sure everything is ready for ya.”

Finn smiled. “Always the consummate professional. I defer to your greatness.”

“Oh, fuck off.” I slapped his forearm playfully. He knew I couldn’t take compliments well. But his joy was infectious. I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at the adorable little shit.

I set up my station again while he removed his shirt and stretched out in prone position on the newly disinfected massage table. My process guided my movements like clockwork. It was probably my only saving grace as I prepped his skin for the stencil, applying the topical cream to numb the site.

“Listen,” he began while I set the stencil in place. “I really can’t thank you enough for doing this for us.”

I managed a laugh that sounded lighter than I felt. “I told you, it’s no problem. If that were the case, I wouldn’t have made the exception.” 

“Still, If I was gonna trust anyone to poke me with a needle repeatedly, I’m glad it was you. I’ve wanted one done by you for years.”

“...Really? You never told me that.” I was surprised. 

He gave a slight shrug. “I didn’t want to make you feel obligated. And I know your policy on it, and I respect that.”

“I... I appreciate that. I do.” I lifted the stencil slightly and set it back, waiting for a more solid line. “I mean, I had my reservations about this, but...you’re important to me. And your happiness is worth it.”

A slow smile came to his face. “You had your reasons, and I won’t pry. But you know that, no matter what, I love you. And I’m here for you.”

“Why do you say it like that though?” There was something about his tone that worried me.

A pause, then a short laugh. “No reason. I’m just babbling at this point. Everything has been happening so fast.”

“I hear ya. But no worries, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Let’s get started, shall we?”

As I worked on the outline, I began to wonder about what Finn initially meant to say. I knew there was more because I knew  _ him _ . So the thought that there was something he was keeping from me was, naturally, upsetting. 

I breathed through it, feeling my stomach churn with anxiety, and I swallowed at the lump forming in my throat. My hands remained steady long enough to finish the outline. 

“Right. Five to ten minute break,” I told him. “Stretch, shake it off, whatever you gotta do.” 

He nodded and began to get up. At the same time, I carried myself calmly to the bathroom, locked the door, and proceeded to lose breakfast and lunch down the toilet. I coughed and retched as my throat burned from the stomach acid that came up. 

It took a moment to catch my breath. It took a little longer to pull it together. But I managed to flush, rinse my mouth out with water, and wash my hands. I gave myself another look in the mirror, schooling my features to a calmer demeanor, and went back out. 

Grabbing a bottle of Vitamin Water (XXX is my personal favorite), I returned to my station and started switching needles. 

“Hey, you feeling alright?” Finn asked, placing a hand on my forehead. “I went to grab a drink from the break room and…”

He heard me puking my guts out. Because of course. 

“I’m good. Pretty sure I just ate something bad at lunch,” I lied. “That’s what I get for playing roulette with the food court at the mall. I’ll be fine.”

That seemed to be enough. “You’re going home after this. Just in case it’s food poisoning,” he said kindly, in that way where he knew I was lying and appreciated my persistence to keep going but still wanted me to be careful and rest.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t look good if I blew chunks on the next customer.” I managed a weak chuckle, unwilling to argue him on that.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, which now stirred a fluttering of a different sort than usual.

Finn had helped me stay accountable in taking better care of myself and breaking the habit of working myself into the ground. It wasn’t always successful, but baby steps was better than nothing.

While this was entirely true, the less he knew about the true cause of my sudden onset, the better. 


	3. Tunnel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad dreams, doctor's visits, and...a party. Can't all be bad news.

I made it through the rest of the tattoo, keeping my focus - and my intent - intact somehow. The shading came out clean as ever, and I tended to it per normal.

I asked Seth to take over and to reschedule my other appointments while Finn took me home. Despite telling him I’d be alright, he stayed and made chicken noodle soup and my favorite Irish tea. I couldn’t count how often we’d played Florence Nightingale to one another, and had seen the worst.

“Think you’ll be okay to come to the fundraiser Friday night?” He asked once I’d settled on the couch. “I know you were looking forward to being there.”

”Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I didn’t blow cash on a costume and heels _not_ to go,” I replied with a grin. “And I love the cause you’re supporting. Definitely worth having sore feet for the night.”

“You say that now, but don’t come crying to me about your soles bleeding ‘cause you danced too much,” he teased. “Bring your flats, too.”

We talked like that for a while until I fell asleep. That night, I dreamed of watching a storm on the shoreline, lightning flashing big and bombastic amid rolling clouds. A bolt struck me directly in the chest, searing through flesh and bone.

I woke up with a stabbing pain in my chest, struggling to breathe. It took a moment before I noticed that my favorite blanket was draped over me. One that Finn had given me a couple of Christmases ago.

I held it close to me, steadying my breathing as the rain lulled me back to sleep.

* * *

“How are you doing on the new anxiety meds?”

“Honestly? Doesn’t seem to have much of an effect. I’ve been stressing out this week. There’s a lot going on, and it doesn’t feel like I’m keeping up,” I admitted, sighing.

I sat on the exam table in Dr. Kaufman’s office Thursday morning while she checked and recorded my vitals. When she finished I added, “I was so wound up at one point that I threw up at work on Tuesday. Then my coworkers damn near kicked me out yesterday when I tried to come in, told me to take the day off and get better. They’re convinced I’m either coming down with something, or it’s burnout.”

“Possible,” she agreed.

“But last night, I woke up and couldn’t breathe. My chest hurt so bad, I was in tears. Not even sure why. It could have been a dream, but I don’t remember what it was about.”

She nodded, making her notes. “Sounds like it was stressful enough to cause the shortness of breath and angina.”

If it was that bad, did I even _want_ to know what it was about?

And I didn’t even bother telling her about the new tattoo sketch I’d created upon waking of a flowering heart that pulsed and dripped with blood, or the snake that emerged to wrap around and squeeze more from it. Or the fact that, when I’m stressed, the tattoos on my body animate themselves. Particularly the one on my back of the tidal wave.

Having this “gift” gets fucking complicated when pretending to be normal. And I wanted to keep out of the psych ward, thank you very much.

After a moment, Dr. Kaufman sat down in front of me. “I’ll be honest with you. I’m concerned about what I’m seeing in your vitals. You had a similar instance a couple weeks ago, and twice in a row this week, and that’s not a good sign. Are you familiar with stress-induced cardiomyopathy?”

I shook my head. She answered, “It shares symptoms similar to a heart attack but it happens to healthy people under emotional duress, particularly women. I’ll give you more info on it, but I’m gonna suggest you take a week or two off and de-stress. Take a trip, avoid stressful situations, stay home…whatever helps. I want you to be careful, okay? It’s important to take care of your heart.”

_Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life…_

Not sure why_ that_ particular verse from Proverbs popped into my head, but my doctor was right. Maybe it was time for an actual vacation. After the fundraiser, I might go somewhere for a while.

It was a nice thought, anyway.

* * *

Friday arrived, and it was full of nothing I was used to.

Rarely do I indulge in things like spa days and getting my hair done at a salon (mostly because I did my own at home). But I wanted to chase away the bad vibes I’d been feeling and leave some of my stress relief to the professionals.

I went to a spa for a body wrap, a hot stone massage, and a facial. I also booked a hair appointment. Went shopping for a decent pair of heels. Even found body shaping garments. Thank God for Spanx.

Finn had teamed up with the local chapter of GLAAD to create a facility that would provide sanctuary and counseling for abused, disowned, and runaway LGBT+ teens and adults. It was something he’d been quite passionate about and I shared in that, being openly bi.

Tonight’s fundraiser had a masquerade ball theme, and I always did love a good costume.

My tight coils were dyed purple, blown out, and smoothed to a lush wave that fell above my shoulders. I took a half-mask and painted it sea-green and adorned it with tiny shells, blue sea glass bits, and pearls. The other half of my face was done to look like shimmering emerald and violet scales, complete with color contacts. And my dress ran in various hues of turquoise and violet, made of chiffon that flowed like water when I moved. The heels matched and weren’t too high.

Frankly, I felt pretty damn gorgeous. I’d never been much for formal wear…but then, I never really had much occasion.

And technically, this wasn’t completely formal dress; it was a costume. I was going as a different Orisha: Yemaya, goddess of the ocean and the mother of creation. Including, of course, mermaids.

* * *

The ball was a kaleidoscope of color and decadence set in an upscale ballroom. Thanks to one of the project’s biggest patrons, Finn was able to make use of the gorgeous hall to host the party.

Speaking of which, Finn looked every bit the dashing rogue, dressing as the _Phantom’s_ Red Death in full ornate fashion. Gerard Butler couldn’t even compare.

“This is a hell of an affair,” I commented to him as we stood on a balcony studying the scene. “You did great, kid.”

“Ha! I’m three years older than you!” He nudged me in the ribs.

“I don’t care. You look like a twelve-year-old when you shave your beard.” I smirked, though he knew I was just giving him shit.

He rolled his eyes, but relaxed again. “You look amazing, by the way.”

“Thanks. So do you, _Phantom_. Where is your Christine?”

Finn pointed at an ornate ball gown floating around. She looked up from a gorgeous full-face mask of silver beads and feathers and waved. I smiled and waved back…

…and there’s that feeling again. I breathed through it, thankful for the mask.

“You must feel like the luckiest man in the world right now,” I told him. “You’ve got a successful career, a beautiful and equally successful partner, and you’re a pillar of the community. What’s next?”

He laughed. “World domination. What else?”

“Take a number; I already called dibs.”

“Dibs? What are you, twelve?”

“Emotionally, I think,” I teased back. “Well on my way to thirteen, thank you very much.”

We kept the straight faces before we snickered, grown children that we were.

“I’m glad you came out though. It really means a lot that you’re here.”

Heat rose in my cheeks and, once again, I was thankful for the mask. “Couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Besides, you know me - can’t say no to a costume party. It’s like early Halloween.”

“Right? I think a lot of these people feel the same.” After a moment of companionable silence, he said, “I wanna tell you something I haven’t told anyone yet.”

I cocked an intrigued eyebrow. “Let me guess: you and Ava secretly drove to Vegas and eloped.”

“No, nothing like that,” Finn replied through a laugh. “It’s-”

“Finn! Oya!” Ava came up from behind, sliding her arms around his waist. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked extremely giddy. It’s rare that I ever see her drunk (which only partially explained why she called me by my alias rather than my real name, but whatever), but it was nice to see she was enjoying herself.

“Your costume looks amazing!” She exclaimed after kissing his cheek. “You’re like a fabulous mermaid!”

“She’s Yemaya,” Finn corrected, “who’s regarded in Yoruba religion as the Queen Mother of the seas, and the one who created all life, including mermaids.”

I smiled, mainly at how quick he was on the uptake. That and the fact that he knows about the Orisha as well as I know about his Irish mythology shows that we’ve been around each other too damn long.

“Nice. She gets to be Queen of the Mermaids and I’m a character that Andrew Lloyd Webber fucked up in a musical sequel that shouldn’t exist,” she joked.

I had to laugh at that. “To be fair, you do make a beautiful Christine Daae. Sarah Brightman would have been extremely proud. Plus, you ended up with the Phantom. Not a bad trade.”

Finn kissed her forehead as she looked up at him. I bit the inside of my lip and kept the smile on my face.

“I came to drag you away,” Ava told Finn. “A representative from GLAAD is looking for you and wanted to commend you on putting together such an amazing event.”

Finn looked a bit reluctant, but I waved it off. “Go on! We’ll chat later.”

With a gentle smile, he squeezed my shoulder and followed her. I continued to look on at the party below, drink in hand.

“No fun being at a party if you’re just gonna watch, boss lady.” Seth nudged me when he approached, looking awesome as the Night King, ice-blue contacts and all.

“Yeah, I know. But I love seeing these costumes. Yours is amazing, but I’m sure you’ve heard that a lot tonight.”

“I have, but what’s one more? Yours looks incredible, and I know you’ve heard that one all night,” he replied, beaming. “Anyway, I wondered if I might be bold and ask if you’d like to dance. Good way to see the costumes too.”

Despite the unsettling feeling in my chest wondering what Finn had to tell me, I couldn’t help but chuckle. It was like Seth knew when to pull me out of my own head.

Downing my drink and setting the glass aside, I took his extended hand. “Sure. Why not?”


	4. Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All waves have to come down eventually.

After a couple more drinks and a few dances, I was feeling amazing. Top of the fucking world. I was enjoying myself with Seth and was thrilled to hear the announcement that they raised nearly triple the amount of their goal.

We may or may not have cheered obnoxiously from the audience, making Finn laugh and blush. It was awesome.

Before long, however, I needed the bathroom. I made a beeline for the stalls, taking my heels off much to my relief, and did my business.

The fuzzy edges of my brain cleared as I sat. I was ready to get up when I heard a couple voices entering the bathroom.

“....your guy knows how to throw a party.”

“He’s amazing, isn’t he?”

I knew that voice.

“You got a good one,” the unfamiliar one said. “There’s been plenty after him for years. Some of them thought he was seeing that really nice tattoo artist.”

“Oh, they’re practically siblings, they’re so close,” Ava answered.

(I mean...she wasn’t _totally_ wrong.)

“I honestly can’t see them together, even if that were the case. I mean, he’s way too good for a ragamuffin like her.”

That gave me pause.

Seriously, what the fuck was happening?

“Ava, don’t be mean,” the other voice said, though with a slightly drunken giggle in their tone. “She’s as loved around here as he is. One of the nicest people in town, wouldn’t even harm a fly.”

“Sorry, but I just don’t see it. And you have no idea how much I hate having to pretend I like her,” Ava complained, scoffing. “She’s not even in his league. Threw away a college education to draw amateurish designs on people’s skin. Only reason I got it through her was because it made Finn happy.”

My chest felt tighter the more I listened. How could I not have seen this coming? How did I miss it? Was I really so distracted that I missed the signs?

Or maybe I hadn’t missed them. The serpent squeezing the heart… lightning striking my chest...the sweet poison that churned my stomach when she hugged me…

They were always there. Not random. A warning…

To _guard my heart._

“Can’t wait until we leave here. He’ll hand over the wrestling school to someone else, pack up and head to Europe with me, and we’ll get married. ”

...Was _this_ what he was gonna tell me?

“Does he know? Have you talked about it yet?”

“We’ve talked about marriage, but not moving away yet. But I’m sure I can get him to say yes. He’ll be better off away from here, especially from her. I don’t think he’ll be difficult to convince.”

The roaring that started quietly in my ears grew louder. Hot tears streamed down my face. But I didn’t move, not until I could hear they left the bathroom. When I did, remembering to flush, I moved in small steps to the sink and absently washed my hands.

There was a scream in my throat. A guttural, painful cry that wanted out. But I couldn’t.

Ava was my father, bragging about my accomplishments in public while making me feel lower than dogshit in private, blaming me for the shock that killed Mom as she gave birth to me.

Ava was Esmee, kind and accepting to my face, but horrible and subversive behind my back, and exploiting me to the point of illness.

Ava was the serpent with the chokehold on Finn’s beautiful, flowering heart.

_I should tell him. I have to tell him. I...I can’t let him go through with this…_

_Swallow it down. Pull yourself together. Don’t make a scene. Just...just pull him to the side, tell him what you heard._

_What if she denies it? Makes me look like a liar, or jealous? What if she uses this to her advantage to drive us apart?_

_What if…_

_What if it breaks his heart?_

I stumbled a bit in my steps before I switched my heels for flats, straightened myself up, dried my eyes after a few eye drops, kept my head held high, and walked back out.

Finn was on stage with the mayor and the rep from GLAAD, presenting the grand total of the money raised tonight. With Ava at his side.

Shit.

I felt tired all of a sudden, like my energy was zapped to nothing. How I managed to smile and applaud was amazing.

It was for him. Of course I was happy for him.

I could barely hear the speech he was making. Everything in me was ready to shut down. And she’s up there just smiling away. No sign of the venom she spewed moments earlier.

“...but I couldn’t have done any of this without my best friend.”

That brought me back to the present.

_Wait...what?!_

“Most of you know her,” he said as he looked at me. “Whether you’ve ever gotten ink from her or seen her spearing people at my school, you know how amazing she is. If not for her ideas and her passion, this wouldn’t be possible. The masquerade ball was her concept, and she let me run with it. But no way could I ever take credit for her brilliance. She should be up here, but I know how she feels about public speaking.”

The crowd laughed politely. My cheeks heated up all too quickly.

“Instead, I have another surprise. And it took so much not to tell her about this, I was so excited about it. In this new facility, we recognized a need for a place of expression and giving those who pass through those doors a voice. A way to discover their own capabilities and to bond with others. So there will be an art-space in this new facility, including an art room as well as a gallery space. And it will be built in her name and her honor. She deserves so much more, but I hope this is a good start.”

My hands went over my heart, and my jaw dropped.

An art-space...named after _me_? _That’s_ what he was keeping to himself this whole time?

I barely noticed the happy applause, or the flash of scorn in Ava’s features.

But I could feel his arms around me, hugging me warmly. I held onto him, taking this moment into my memory.

“I wanted to tell you sooner, but was afraid you wouldn’t show up. Or you’d kick my ass. Really I could have prepared you better for this, I’m sorry,” he chuckled in my ear.

I wanted to weep at how sweet he was being. At how undeserving I felt.

Somehow I managed a laugh through my tears. “Yeah...you could have, you ass. But I’m glad you didn’t. I... I literally have no idea what to say.”

Finn looked at me with that beautiful smile. “You don’t have to say anything. Just know that you deserve it. You deserve the world, _mo chara daor.”_

That definitely brought tears. “Thank you.”

He handed me tissues and I huffed as I dabbed at my eyes and cheeks, seeing some of the makeup rubbing off. “Now my makeup is definitely fucked.”

Somehow I couldn’t stop smiling. And... I couldn’t bring myself to tell him and ruin his mood.

“Finn...this is your night,” I told him. “Enjoy it. And go take your victory lap.”

That got a laugh out of him. Though, he surprised me.

With a soft kiss on my exposed cheek.

Summoning the last of my nonexistent energy to be the friend he knew, I gave him a playful shove. “Go on, you. Your public awaits.”

Thankfully, on cue, the mayor pulled him aside for interviews and photos. He was happy. I was happy for him. In that moment, I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

I began to gradually move away, walking backwards toward the exit. Once I was outside the revolving door I took a deep breath, releasing the facade I’d been clinging to for dear life. I didn’t fall apart, not yet.

I came here by Lyft. I opted to walk alone this time. I didn’t need anyone to see me like this.

I wandered aimlessly in a fugue state, barely breathing and unaware of my surroundings. And I didn’t care. I wanted to…

I didn’t know what I wanted. I just felt disconnected, numb. I recognized this. I didn’t want to feel this again, but I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop it and, at this point, I didn’t want to.

There were waves crashing in the distance. They were calling to me.

Concrete turned to pliant sand under my feet. My mask came off, falling by the wayside. The waters were black instead of their welcoming blue during the day. The closer I came to the edge of the shore, the more everything began to connect. I started to feel, and I hated it.

I could feel the burning in my legs.

I could feel the betrayal.

I could feel the anger.

I could feel the scream clawing at my throat.

_Cast it all upon the waves, child. Let it go. Let the pain go_, the ocean seemed to say.

I fell to my knees, collapsing at last from exhaustion.

Everything came back to me. Churning, pounding, stabbing.

_Too much...I can’t…_

The scream that finally tore from me could not be drowned by the waves. It could not be classified as beautiful, nor melancholic.

It was guttural and ancient, battered by the unspeakable.

It was rage. It was the need for vengeance.

It was grief. It was loss. It was a wound that would never heal.

My chest flared more than ever before. My breathing struggled, and I landed on my side, weeping as the water swept over me in consolation.

I don’t know how long I lay there, gasping for air and clutching my chest, praying for the pain to end.

But my tears finally slow down as everything began to grow quiet. I couldn’t hear the waves anymore, or the wind, or my subsiding cries.

I think about Finn as I lay there, fading. The last good memories I had flashed in my mind.

His heart. His kindness. And how I loved him too much to take his smile.

My best friend.

My love.

I’m sorry. I’m so tired.

I just want to sleep…

...and dream of the beach at sunset. The seafoam gathering on the shore, bubbling and hopeful…

...and how it would feel to drift away with it.

* * *

> _“You can die of a broken heart — it's scientific fact — and my heart has been breaking since that very first day we met. I can feel it now, aching deep behind my rib cage the way it does every time we're together, beating a desperate rhythm:_
> 
> **Love me. Love me. Love me**.”
> 
> _— Abby McDonald, Getting Over Garrett Delaney_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes the core story. However, there are three additional endings. They aren’t exactly alternates, but continuations of the story itself. I wanted to leave it up to you how the story truly ends. I'll post them up very soon. <3


End file.
